He could envisage it. He’d get to the airport. Halt her plane. Board it if she had already. Otherwise he’d corner her in the terminal. He could make a public declaration—an invitation, a proposal. But it would be one she wouldn’t want because she wouldn’t be able to answer with complete honesty. Not with the world watching. And they would be. Everything was up for consumption. Weddings. Funerals. Coronations. Dates. Proposals. All picked over and commented upon. The lack of privacy was insufferable—even that balcony in his own damned bedroom was a relic of public consumption from years gone by and all that had happened since was that the audience was even bigger. Everything personal could be live-streamed to anyone who bothered to click the link and he refused to have what was between them shared to anyone. It was too precious.
But if he let her go now, if she got on that plane without him stopping her, she wouldn’t come back. She’d made her stand. She’d offered everything he’d wanted and he’d rejected her. She wouldn’t return to make the offer again. She was too hurt. Which meant he couldn’t let her go without telling her how he really felt. And how did that happen away from this audience of millions?
There wasn’t any time. Not now. He had to be here for his people. He’d never let them down. He would do this properly—to the very best that he could. So he didn’t mount his horse as he was supposed to. He gestured to his waiting groom to hold for a moment and stepped forward alone, deciding on an impromptu walkabout. He saw Garcia’s fierce look but ignored it. These people had been waiting for hours to get a glimpse of him and to be part of these celebrations. He walked towards the crowd. They were not silent now. They’d swiftly settled in a chant.
‘Felipe! Felipe! Felipe!’
He could imagine Elsie teasing him about the size of his head. He smiled at the thought and the cheering crescendoed to deafening decibel levels. Hell, he wished she were with him. Because he loved Silvabon. The people. The palace. The city, sea, sky. He would give anything in his country’s best interests. It had his heart completely. But so did she. And it was only now that he realised his heart was so much bigger than he’d ever known. It could hold it all—most especially her.
‘Thank you.’ He bowed to the group of people nearest the railing. Their cameras flashed but their smiles were brighter.
‘You’re the King.’
‘Yes.’
He didn’t often talk to children but this one was being held up by her father. And Felipe couldn’t help thinking of that shocking dismay from earlier when Elsie had said he couldn’t have just got her pregnant. Both the disappointment and the desire still lingered. He’d sworn he wasn’t going to have children—that he didn’t want them to be heirs to all that was the Crown. But Elsie had called him out on that too, hadn’t she? He could alter the weight of it. He could build in choices. He’d been too wary—too rigid—to give that full consideration before. But now? Now he ached for everything—especially children. Her children. The laughter he could imagine...the footsteps...the music.
‘Where’s your queen?’ The little girl gave him a smile.
‘I don’t have one yet,’ he said huskily.
‘Can I be the Queen?’
A ripple of laughter went around the surrounding crowd.
‘Unfortunately not at this time,’ he informed her gravely.
‘Is it because I’m not a princess?’
‘No, I think anyone can be a queen’ he replied. ‘But you’re a little young.’
The little girl frowned, apparently considering his words. ‘You need to find someone else. You’d better hurry up.’
Out of the mouths of babes. ‘You’re right. I’ll see what I can do.’
With a smile at her parents, he stepped back and signalled to his groom. A moment later he swung up onto his horse.
As the crowd cheered, he saluted them. This was good for Silvabon. For the promotion of alliances, for tourism. But his heart still ached. He did need his Queen.
He made himself maintain the slow trot and not gallop back to the palace as if he were racing for the moon. He smiled, occasionally waved, nodded in appreciation of their attention. He’d been rehearsing for this moment all his life. He knew exactly what to do. And he wanted to do it. It felt right.
He would be their king. But he would also be a man. And men made mistakes. Men weren’t perfect. Sometimes they had to be strong and face their fears. And ask for forgiveness.
Back inside the palace, he strode through the private wing. He hardly had any time.
‘Is everything okay?’ Amalia asked as he swept past her. ‘You look pale.’
‘I need to make a call.’ But he hurriedly swivelled back to face her. ‘You know, you don’t have to go to boarding school if you don’t want to.’
She stared at him.
‘You can go to a local school here in Silvabon. Live in the palace. We can get additional music tutors. Or you could go to summer camps for music or something...’ He watched the colour wash into her face. ‘I thought you’d hate it here, but if you don’t.’ He cleared his throat. ‘If you’d rather stay...’ He drew a breath and realised another powerful truth. ‘I’d like you to stay.’
She stared at him for a moment.
‘That’s if—’
‘I want to stay,’ she said quickly. ‘I want to go to school here.’